Of toxicity

I’m drawn to the unrest you offer like a moth is to flame.

Why does the world crave stability and I evade it like the plague

Why the chaos of a disturbed mind at midnight is alluring

Why after all do I find myself right back where you left me shattered?

What is it about some connections we endure

That even the pain they offer is more precious than the peace of isolation

That no matter their repelling levels of apathy towards us

We crawl back to them at any hint of welcome?

I’d cry myself to sleep over your memory than be cuddled by a loved one.

Why that toxicity draws me in beyond my control

Why giving you up is the one impossible thing in life

Why I hold despite the cuts and tears; I’d never know.

How lame, isn’t it to be drawn to what’s so strikingly wrong.

How weak, to be unable to resist.

How unacceptable, that I accept myself despite the lack of control.

How wondrous after all that I can be torn to pieces over and over by the same one.

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